Going Home in a Box
Chapter Forty
"Relax. You're tensing up too much," Marionette said. His voice calm and carefree in contrast. "You can't force it, you just have to feel it. It's hard to explain but once you do it you will know."
Charlie took his advice and loosened up her vice-like grip on the edge of the table. She paused a moment like she would if taking in a deep breath and then looked down once again at the task at hand.
A pencil laid on the dining room table in front of her. The task was to try to roll it. Any distance, any movement was fine, but her goal was to push it all the way across to Marionette on the other side using only her mind.
The only problem was that it had been about ten minutes of this and nothing had happened. They tried with a piece of paper, a marble, even trying to have her push back against the other puppet. She was moving things with her mind just like a normal human would, which was not at all. It was a little disheartening when he did it so fluidly and naturally.
Marionette didn't seem too concerned about the lack of progress, but she wouldn't be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed. Even if she knew this would be an exceptional amount of progress to make on her first day of practice.
So, she continued a little longer. She stared at the pencil, she tried wiggling her fingers around as though casting a spell, and she tried to image herself pushing an invisible forcefield. There was no response.
"I think I'm done for now," she finally decided.
"Are you sure? I know progress is slow, but that doesn't mean we should give up yet! These exercises are a good step," Marionette encouraged. He leaned forward on one arm, the other up and gesturing as he spoke. "Not only that, but you can't expect to focus well with the TV on and all these distractions around."
Distractions being the small animatronics who occasionally popped into the kitchen, hung out for a while, and then hurried off to do something elsewhere. Not blaming them directly and instead blaming 'distractions' was a kindly move.
"I'm not giving up. I think I just need a break. Maybe I'll stare at something else for a while."
As Charlie said this, Mike returned from his bedroom with a slightly troubled look on his face. She looked to him which signaled Marionette to turn around and look as well. He saw that look too.
"What's wrong, Love? Is your mum alright?" he asked.
"She's doing great," Mike answered. "Speaking of which- Can I get everyone's attention?" He turned his voice towards the living room and everyone in it.
Michael, who was on the couch, twitched an ear. Jeremy and Balloon Boy, who were sitting in front of the TV while the latter watched the former play videos games, turned back to look at him. The little bots in the room looked up as well.
"Just a heads up, but my parents are dropping by," Mike warned.
Jeremy quirked a brow. "Your parents?"
Mike stared back blankly.
"Freudian slip?" Jeremy guessed.
"Ignore it. Anyways, they're dropping by, so you're all going to have to disappear before they get here. Now I'm not saying you have to leave, but your other options are the spare bedrooms, the basement, and the attic crawlspace. So, yeah, you'll want to leave," Mike explained.
"Such a tough decision," Springtrap murmured. He returned to sketching in his notebook seemingly unconcerned. "What day are they coming?"
"They're on their way."
Springtrap shot up from the couch and to his feet in a heartbeat, knocking Plushtrap off the couch and then catching him before he could hit the floor while doing so. "What the hell?! Why didn't you say anything?!"
"I told you as soon as I found out, which was about three minutes ago," Mike replied, unable to hide the touch of amusement slipping through. "Now we've got about an hour. That's enough time to figure out what we're going to do."
"I've got to get to a checkpoint now," Jeremy said. He turned back to the game and hastily started to rush through. Balloon Boy gave a strained but equally obnoxious laugh.
All of the Minireenas mass migrated back into the hallway, led by Daisy and followed by Plushtrap who Springtrap had set down. Likely they would spread the news to the Bidybabs who would then panic. In short, the room devolved into panic.
"And it didn't occur to you to maybe postpone the visit until some of us were out of the house?" Springtrap asked with exasperation.
"How can I postpone? She's already on the way here. At least we have an hour warning instead of her just dropping in."
"I still consider this dropping in!"
"Michael, it's okay. She knows we're alive and she's been exceptionally kind to me," Marionette chimed in.
"Yeah, but Patrick doesn't," Mike reminded.
"…Oh dear. That might be a problem," the Puppet sheepishly retracted.
"At least Patrick shouldn't. I told Mom not to tell him, but if she's gotten too comfortable with it she might've let something slip," Mike added. He got a thoughtful, borderline suspicious look as he considered it.
His mother didn't specifically ask if she could bring Patrick to the house. While under normal circumstances it would've made sense to assume she would do so, this was a very abnormal situation, and she knew that well. His mother wasn't absentminded and wouldn't just forget about the circumstances just because she got married. Either Patrick already knew or, the better option, that was the reason for the warning call.
"Is Patrick the type of person we should worry about?" Charlie asked quietly.
Mike snapped out of his thoughts and wave it off. "No, no. Patrick's a cool guy… But this thing we've got going on really needs to stay with us. It's hard enough keeping all of this under wraps when so many people know about it."
"How long are they staying?" Springtrap asked wearily. He had already come to terms with the fact that they couldn't get all of them out of here and the little animatronics were a bigger risk to blowing their cover than he was.
"A few hours at most, and I might be able to get them out of here for a while to go have dinner," Mike offered. Springtrap gave a weary sigh.
"You can stay in my room. Or Foxy's room. Or wait, it was your room too, wasn't it? Why don't you stay in there?" Jeremy offered, voice kindly but unable to take his eyes off the screen.
"Are you heading over to the pizzeria?" Springtrap asked, turning his head back lazily.
"Actually, I might pick up Foxy and go over to Fritz's. We should really sit down and come up with a plan for this kid situation," Jeremy remarked. Springtrap hummed in agreement.
Mike inhaled through his teeth. "Yeah, we really should do something about that."
Marionette gave an unsettled tune and laced his fingers worriedly on the table.
"I appreciate the offer. I think I might take you up on that," Springtrap agreed. He grabbed his pillow and a blanket off the couch. "I might as well move back there now."
Nobody stopped him and as he thumped off Mike circled around and sat down on the couch, crossing his arms and legs, and watching the game play out before him. He watched for a minute before sighing.
"Do I still call him Uncle Patrick if he's also my stepfather?" he asked.
The character Jeremy was controlling noticeably hesitated when he did. He silently considered it for a few long moments, then gave a rather direct, "Not in public. People might talk."
As though they needed anymore talking.
Over the next hour, Jeremy got off of the game and Mike helped him wrangle up the little animatronics and move them into his car. Moving Max was the hardest part, with Mike deciding to lug his heavily weight body out without a blanket. He was just small enough and still enough to pass as a prop, so if there were neighbors out to see then he wouldn't have been worried.
With them out of the house and Springtrap refusing to leave the back bedroom, the rest of the time was used to clean up the house into a presentable state. Mike and Marionette worked together in getting thing in line- Mike rushing to get the illusion of clean while Marionette took his time with the details after him- while Charlie pretty much gathered up anything the little animatronics left out and stashed them into Marionette's old bedroom.
It didn't take long, but once it was done Mike still felt antsy. He wasn't sure why; he had seen his mother and uncle since their wedding, so it wasn't that. Yet he still felt a strange nervousness when he heard them pull up outside.
"They're here. Everyone panic," he announced.
Marionette chimed and made a rather speedy exit down the hallway. Charlie was on his heels with a, "Good luck!"
Mike lifted Moppet out of his lap and sat her on the couch beside him before standing up and heading towards the door. After which the cat promptly claimed the spot where he had just been sitting and curled up in it. Mike quickly fixed his hair and double-checked his clothes. Deeming it all good enough, he opened the front door.
Isabelle Schmidt was just as he remembered her, grabbing two armfuls of gift bags out of the backseat, and hustling up to the front door to get out of the rain. This time Patrick was there to hold an umbrella over her. No doubt he offered to carry the bags but, like she did with Mike, she probably insisted that she could handle it.
Funny enough, but this familiar sight alone was enough to melt away all that previous nervousness.
She greeted him with her typical gushing hello and a partial hug. Then sat the bags inside the door to give him a more proper hug.
"Oh, I've missed you!" Isabelle with the same gusto as if she hadn't seen him in years.
Instead of pointing that out, he gave a simple and honest, "I've missed you too, Mom. I like your hair."
"You noticed! Thank you. I thought it was time for a change," she said. She fussed with the loose waves as soon as she pulled back, as though to poof them back up before promptly digging through one of the bags.
"How's it going? Been staying out of trouble?" Patrick asked. He closed the umbrella up along with the door behind them.
"You kidding? I'm barely staying out of prison," Mike retorted.
Isabelle made a dismissive noise and lined up the bags. "Is Jeremy here?" she asked.
"He had to take the Minireenas over to Fritz's."
"Oh, okay," Isabelle said. She either caught on or remembered the Minireenas- Mike had decided it was easier to not tell her about the five other animatronics Jeremy took in. "Well, this blue bag is his and the green is Fritz's."
"Mom, you know you don't have to do this," Mike pointed out with mild exasperation.
"I didn't go crazy. Most of this is just the souvenirs from Hawaii," she brushed off. The ones she forgot last time, which, Mike noted, must've tripled since she had forgotten them.
"Sure," he said doubtfully.
"You're going to love what I got you. You're never going to use it, but you're going to love it," Patrick remarked.
Mike had a suspicion he was probably right. He watched his mother hoist up an especially heavy bag and finally interjected.
"Hey, before we do that. I know it's early, but what do you think about going out to eat?" he suggested.
"That sounds fine to me," Patrick agreed. He looked to Isabelle who also agreed. He started getting the umbrella out again. "So, got a place in mind?"
"Anywhere that's not pizza. I get enough of it at work," Mike said matter-of-factly. Then confidently tacked on, "I can think of a few places."
"That reminds me," Patrick said with a snap of his fingers. "I saw a commercial for that new Freddy's megaplex."
Isabelle shot him a look and in one second Mike had figured out exactly what they were tiptoeing around and that they had been doing so for the last five minutes. Instead of feeling awkward, he was rather amused by it.
"Yeah, that place. I've been over there a few times. In fact, the manager or whatever he is reached out to us about a business deal to get Foxy's in there. They did the same thing with a place called Chipper's that used to be a part of Freddy's and split off when the company went under the first time. Now they sell bean burritos in Freddy's mega mall."
"I take it you told him no?" Patrick guessed.
"I told him to go to hell."
"Mike!" Isabelle scolded.
"I told him no," Mike corrected.
"I think you were right the first time. Considering what you went through for that business," Patrick remarked. Mike brushed it off, not noticing the somewhat worried look on his mother's face.
"Refusing to get caught up in a contract with them is good enough… But we did get stuck agreeing to selling merch there after one of our employees broke in and vandalized the place before they could open. We haven't gotten that set up yet. We're sort of hoping the guy in charge just forgets," Mike explained. Isabelle and Patrick looked somewhat surprised by the news. "…He's our star employee and we had to cover for him. What are you going to do?"
"Give him a raise," Patrick suggested.
"Don't tell me what to do, Dad," Mike joked. That was a joke too, not a Freudian slip. Though from the weird aura that fell over the room it certainly felt like it. "…Alright, let's go," he said, keeping a cool tone as he quickly yanked on his jacket.
"You two go ahead. I need to use the restroom before we go," Isabelle said. Mike had a hunch that wasn't all she was doing considering that she picked up a couple of bags and took them with her. She looked into the living room as she passed by, stopping to come back and pet the cat on the couch, and then continued down the hallway.
Patrick had already stepped outside to open the umbrella, so he didn't notice any of this. It was up to Mike to make sure he stayed out there.
"Perfect. We're going to be in the car alone and the topics of conversation are Freddy's and me calling him Dad. I can't see that being uncomfortable," Mike thought. He stepped out after him and pulled the door closed with the keys left in it.
…
Charlie had retreated into her own bedroom instead of heading into the master bedroom with Marionette. It just seemed like a safer option when she knew that he and Mike's mother were somewhat close. It at least spared her the possibility of the woman letting herself in and catching her off-guard.
At least that was the plan, but Charlie couldn't help but eye her bedroom door. She could vaguely hear voices down the hall and knew they weren't anywhere near accidentally walking in on her, but she still felt on edge. She got up from sitting on the foot of the bed and locked the door, but something still had her on edge. By now it was clear that it was irrational, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
Charlie sighed and just decided to get the eventual over with and just get into her safety spot. She opened up the closet and stepped inside.
Since the last time she camped out in here Charlie had decided to fix it up a little. There was a little spot on the left side that was blocked off with boxes and had a soft blanket folded up to sit on. There was a book, two magazines, and a Rubik's cube stashed in there for if she got bored and she put up a dragon poster on the wall to give it a less closet-like feel. All in all, a nice little place to hide away in.
Though still a tight squeeze to get into and sitting there meant she either had to have her legs crossed or bent in front of her. She made it work but regretted not bringing a pillow in with her and didn't feel like climbing out to get one. It definitely felt silly hiding in a closet when she was already behind a locked door, but it soothed the agitation.
Programming, she acknowledged. The programming itching at her to go climb into her box. At least the closet was a functional substitute.
Though of all the sacrifices that came with becoming a puppet, the desire to hide in a box was on the smaller side. Along with how awkward it was to lean back on a wall with the prong on the back of her head. She had to adjust it around for a few moments until it was up enough to be comfortable. Again, a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but it could occasionally get in the way.
She picked up the puzzle cube and began to start working on it again. She hadn't gotten much progress by time she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She stilled and listened, and she could hear the footsteps lead to the master bedroom door. There was a soft knock.
"Mari? Are you in there?" a voice called. It was a very warm and loving voice. An assortment of delighted chimes answered it and she heard the door open, followed by proper greetings and what sounded like a hug- had to say what a hug sounded like, but her voice after that sounded like Marionette had her compressed in a tight hug.
She sounded… very nice, actually. Marionette had said she was, but Mike had been so tense that she had briefly wondered about it. She was glad to have these thoughts be unfounded, she even smiled as she listened to them.
Her mother had always been affectionate from what she remembered-.
She shut down that thought before it could fully creep up on her. She didn't want to get sucked into that pitfall right now. Instead, she wanted to think about something else and returned to focusing on the puzzle cube.
Back to the prong- she didn't dislike having it, but there were moments when it was in a place it shouldn't be or jingling in a tense situation. Unlike the ringing in her chest, controlled by her emotions and an extension of her voice, the bell on the prong was just that. Just a normal bell that rung if it was moved the wrong way. At least it was a cute bauble.
Sometimes Charlie was suddenly reminded of how weird it was to touch her head and not feel hair. Like a moment of déjà vu where she would touch her head and in the back of her mind expect to feel it. She had never been too fixated on her hair, so it was weird to be so nostalgic for it now.
Then again, she did notice that this had gone away for a long while and then cropped up again after Baby's recent change of her own hair. Maybe Charlie envied her subconsciously for something that she normally would think was so trivial. Or maybe it was Baby's occasional wig talk finally worming into her brain.
She wasn't sure. The only thing she was sure about was that she had just gotten two sides lined up and hadn't the foggiest idea how to get the rest without tearing them apart.
…
Was her grandfather right? Had she moved on and had another family? Did she remarry and adopt his kids, or did she-?
Once again, her mind started to wander. Charlie wrenched it back into place and set the puzzle cube down beside her. She was just going to get frustrated if she ended up ruining her progress while she was distracted.
When it came down to it, it was all just a matter of control. Some things she just didn't have control over. The prong was one of those things that was a little harder to manage while the fact she had it was something out of her control. She couldn't control whether or not Mike's mother came, but she could manage her response to it, and it would be her decision on what she wanted to do.
All of this was just nerves and programming because Mike's mother was here. She was under no pressure to meet her, Mike said as much. She could just stay in her room, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Those thoughts of her own mother were just a reflex. Just a faint recollection of something she used to have, just like with her hair. Occasionally creeping up to remind her of what she had lost.
Though in this case there was a significant difference. Becoming a puppet was a life-changing event that occurred recently while the loss of her mother happened years ago. Not long after the loss of her father, in fact. Just one day she was gone and nobody would talk about her anymore. Aunt Jen stayed tight-lipped about the whole thing, but it was clear someone knew where she was if Chance knew.
Yet she hadn't reached out for her. Though that was fine. Where once there was longing now sat hollowness. Not only did Charlie get along fine without her, but she didn't need the love of a woman who saw fit to abandon her in her time of need. It was just peculiar that a once affectionate woman would suddenly turn her back on her only remaining child-.
Maybe her mother left because she resented that Sammy was the one taken instead of her.
It popped up in her head so quickly and yet equally slowly unfurled itself into her conscious mind. Something she may have thought before but never acknowledged suddenly reared its ugly head and this time no amount of distraction avoided it.
Charlie seldom thought about her mother. Largely because she came to terms a long time ago that she was never coming back and that she was going to have a life without both parents. It was a hard thing for a child to face but it was an easier pill for an adult to swallow, and over the years she swallowed down a lot more than just that acceptance. She swallowed her questions and how she felt about it.
Except that there was still a vacuous void left in her wake. Charlie could still remember her mother. She could vaguely remember a time when they were a happy family, but barely. Instead, she remembered somewhat clearer the time after Sammy was taken, when both of her parents forced smiles that didn't seem genuine and tended to avoid being in the same room. Even still, she was always closer with her dad than her mother.
Sammy was her favorite. As much was said when she looked in the albums and saw many of his pictures labeled with endearments such as "Momma's Boy" and little hearts. Though in a way, Sammy was everyone's favorite. Everyone loved him.
But Charlie came to terms with it all. She accepted the fact that her mother had gone through too much pain, that she couldn't be a mother anymore.
Except that wasn't true because Chance said she had a new family. Her mother could be a parent just fine, she just couldn't be her parent. Perhaps because every time she looked at her, she saw her brother's face.
Charlie was already shaking by time she felt something warm rolling down her mask. Here she was crying alone in a closet, just like the night Sammy was taken. The night where everything stopped. She buried her face into her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, tightening into a ball to suffocate the noise, and wept quietly. The off-tune whines of failed jingles unable to make it out of the closet.
It was so silly to cry about it. So, so silly. It happened years ago, it was over. It wasn't even the worst thing that ever happened to her. Or it wasn't supposed to be. What a shame that her actual death was more fondly remembered.
The scariest part was that if she had survived that night, she could've still imagined herself having this same revelation. Except perhaps she would've been even more alone. Or maybe she would've had it alongside Jessica or John, or maybe she would've been alive but still here, in this house with Mike and Marionette. Maybe someone would've called her mother after her near-death experience and she would finally come- no, wait. She missed her funeral too.
That should've made her feel worse, but Charlie found it almost funny in a too-ridiculous-to-be-true kind of way. She finally started to pull herself back together, still resting her head on her knees but no longer crying. Some tears still leaked out without the sobs. At least she did it in the closet, where nobody would hear her. She didn't want Marionette to know about this, even though he would no doubt be there to comfort her.
It seemed like the more Charlie thought of the present the more alright she felt. She had a family who cared about her now, as odd as they and this whole situation was, she was still connected with her friends but also had new friends, and new relationships, and people who weren't going to leave. It wasn't an easy gig, but she was happy where she was.
She nearly jumped out of her jacket at the sudden knock on the bedroom door.
"Charlie?" Marionette called through. She felt a rush of panic and embarrassment at the thought that he- and Mike's mother- might've heard her. "Could I come in?"
"Hold on!" she called. Though not too loudly as she didn't know where Mike's mother was. She hadn't been paying attention during her… distraction. She could be standing right out the door with the other puppet.
Charlie stepped out of the closet and looked down at herself. Much to her dismay there were blue tear spots on it and wiping them off didn't do much to help. While Mike's mother wouldn't recognize that she had been crying, Marionette certainly would- if he hadn't heard already, which he likely had.
Shedding her jacket, she looked around for something else to wear. She settled on the El Chip's shirt Mike had given her which has hanging on a hook on the back of the door. She pulled it on and looked down at herself. It didn't cover her nearly as much as her jacket would, but at least it was something to make her a little more normal looking. Or at least to make her feel normal. Then she unlocked and opened the door.
"Yes?" she asked.
Marionette leaned his head and torso into the doorway. He was wearing a straw fedora with a black and white tropical leaf print band on it. His excited smile filled her with immediate relief; he mustn't have heard her.
"You will never believe what Isabelle brought me back from Hawaii," Marionette said. Charlie sent a glance upwards. "No…" He suddenly popped through the doorway, brandishing a wooden ukulele in his arms. "This!"
"Huh, a ukulele. That might actually fit a pirate themed restaurant," she remarked. "But the question is: do you know how to play one?"
"You tell me," he replied. He strummed the chords.
No, he did not.
"But I can learn! I have an ear for music, a touch for strings, and more than enough time on my hands," Marionette said. His smile grew softer as he absentmindedly plucked at the strings. "Mike's taking them out to dinner soon. Would you like to meet her before they leave? It'll be a quick introduction, but you don't have to. She'll understand if you don't feel ready."
Considering that she had met back up with her old friends and Clay it seemed silly to turn down Mike's mother, someone who was a safer bet to not accidentally spill their secrets. Plus, if they were leaving she wouldn't have to entertain long.
"No, I think I'm ready… Besides, I'm not going to turn down a chance at free stuff," she said, putting on a more confident smile.
Marionette perked with a happy chime. "You'll be happy to hear that it's not just a chance then," he said.
He turned to head out before offering back his hand and looking to her expectantly. She was a little too old to be led around by the hand but decided to go ahead and take it. It made him happy, and it made her feel a little more grounded.
After that bout in the closet any physical contact was like a warm blanket after a trek through the snow.
Marionette guided her to the master bedroom where she found Mike's mother folding the few clothes left atop the dresser. She was exactly what Charlie might've expected, a short lady with a gentle face and wavey hair that matched Mike's own in color. She all but cooed when Charlie came in, which was a little embarrassing but also endearing.
"Charlie, this is Isabelle Schmidt, Mike's mum. Isabelle, this is Charlie Johnson, our… well, my protégé," Marionette introduced.
"It's so nice to finally meet you!" Isabelle greeted. She leaned in and put her arms out, but then stopped, perhaps deciding at the last second to just offer the hug instead of taking it. Charlie decided to go ahead and return it and found the woman just as warm and soft as she sounded. Her perfume was a little strong, but flowery and unoffensive.
"It's nice to meet you too," Charlie said as she pulled back. "I'm sorry I missed you the last time you came by. I was visiting a friend."
More like she had fled to Scott's, but she didn't have to clarify that.
"Don't worry about that. I'm just happy to meet you now," Isabelle insisted. She picked up a pink gift bag off of the bed and handed it over. "I wasn't sure what your favorite color was, so I just got a little of everything," she joked.
Or at least, Charlie thought she was joking until she felt the heftiness of the bag and caught a glimpse of a multitude of colors inside. It was definitely worth coming out of her room for- if the sweet woman herself wasn't enough.
The three had a short visit but it was a pleasant one. Isabelle got in a few questions for Charlie. As expected, one was about her favorite color for future gifts, and another was about what she did at the pizzeria. It was clear that Isabelle was trying her hardest to treat both puppets like they were people. Or not quite people, but additional children she got to spoil with goodies.
Eventually she did have to leave, remembering that Mike and Patrick were still out in the car. Marionette escorted her to the front door and neither noticed losing Charlie halfway down the hallway. She lingered there a moment before walking up to Jeremy's, or Foxy's, or currently Springtrap's bedroom door and knocking. Springtrap was silent.
"It's just me. They're leaving now to go out to dinner. Can I come in?" Charlie called.
"Come in," he replied.
She opened the door to find Springtrap reclined on the bed. She noticed that he had laid out an old sheet they used for covering animatronics on the bed underneath him. A limp magazine dangled from his hand, and he turned his head to her.
"How did it go? I heard Marion come and get you," he said. In that case she would've assumed he must've heard some of the conversation, but maybe the walls muffled the sound.
"Good! She's nice. Very friendly, very mom-like," Charlie explained. She shifted her weight from foot to foot before gently nudging the door closed behind her. "…Can I ask you something?"
"It depends. Whose mother are you asking about?" Springtrap asked bluntly.
"No, not that, but I appreciate the subtlety," Charlie sarcastically replied. She looked away in embarrassment. "It's about modifying a body- an animatronic body, I mean. Not like extreme modifications, but something like what was done with Baby. No, not that extreme. Just… appearance modifications on a smaller scale. Like let's say attaching or removing something small," she rambled. Gesturing with her hands while trying to get her points across.
Springtrap processed it for a moment but understood the jest. "What were you thinking of having changed?"
"Nothing huge- and I'm not even saying I'm going to do it, I was just thinking about it," Charlie insisted. He lifted an eye lid like lifting a brow and she got to the point. "What if I wanted to remove my point and do something else, like a wig?"
Springtrap looked a little surprised by the suggestion. He hummed and patted the bed beside him before scooting over a small amount. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside him, and he sat up to study the point. He gently felt the material and the thickness of it and the point itself.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked.
"Not much. I was thinking of getting a wig and then maybe I could get a hat made that resembles the point that I can wear at the pizzeria. Something like a nightcap or like a wizard's hat, that pointed shape so I can stay on-brand with the Lottie character." She thought back over what she just said and sighed. "Alright, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud."
"It doesn't sound stupid."
"It's an animatronic with realistic wig hair. I'll look just as ridiculous as that skinny Baby did."
"You're exaggerating. It takes skill to look that bad," Springtrap remarked. He squeezed at the point. "Can you feel this?"
"A little. It feels like touching the back of my head, just out," she said. She motioned her hand back to explain.
"I see. You do realize that if we did this there would be permanent changes. In theory, I know you're just thinking about it." There might've been an edge of amusement to his voice at the end.
"What do you mean? Did you feel something?" she asked with concern.
"No, it's just material- whatever this material is. It would be easy to remove," Springtrap explained. "I meant that if we removed it and you changed your mind, there would be scars left behind. It's not like skin, for better and for worst."
"Oh, I know. I don't care about that. Scars or seams, they're just little lines that I'm never going to see," Charlie brushed off. "I just…" She sat there with her head down for a moment.
"You want something back that you used to have," Springtrap finished for her. "There's nothing wrong with that. I'd give anything for my old body back… Or at least better fingers. My God, drawing with felt-covered hands is so much more tedious than it has to be," he muttered. She rung a little despite herself, then sent him an apologetic look. He was less than amused, but then reached for his notebook.
"How about this: I will draw up a few drafts of what it might come out looking like and then you will have a better idea if you want to go through it," he offered.
"That would be great, actually. You don't mind doing it?"
"Gives me something to do," Springtrap assured. "And if you decide to go through with it then it gives us a reference point. If there's any positives to these bodies, it's that modification carries fewer risks as long as we take every precaution. One of which being knowing what we're doing."
"Thank you, Michael. I really appreciate this, even if I don't end up going through with it," Charlie said with a thankful smile. He gave a simple nod of assurance. "…Maybe we could keep this between us? Just for now. I'd tell them if I decided to go ahead with anything, but I could wake up tomorrow and decide the whole thing's a bad idea."
"I won't tell anyone," Springtrap assured. "Not unless they sees the pictures. I don't want them thinking I'm sweet on you."
"God forbid someone thinks you're sweet," Charlie remarked. Michael gave an honest chuckle in return.
Dinner had gone well. During which, Mike, Isabelle, and Patrick had caught up on a multitude of things. Mike brought up his plans for college, which Isabelle knew about but hadn't recently been updated on. Patrick was especially encouraging and then somehow the conversation turned into college anecdotes from both him and Isabelle. While Mike couldn't say he was enthralled by the conversation, it was a nice one.
Instead of heading straight home, Mike decided to take them by Pirate's Cove since he knew Foxy wouldn't be there. Isabelle had seen it before, so this was really to show Patrick around and tell them about possible future plans. He wasn't sure if they were really interested or just listening for his sake, but he appreciated it regardless.
Then, right before they were about to leave, his cellphone began to ring. Assuming it was Marionette or Jeremy, he dismissed himself and headed into the kitchen, answering it on the way.
"Hello, hello."
"Hello, hello. It's me," Fritz answered.
"Oh, hey! What's up?"
"Not much. I'm just calling to give you a head's up on what's going on."
Mike paused in the doorway and furrowed his brows, then continued stepping through.
"That's not ominous at all," Mike remarked. "What is going on?"
"I got a call from Burke and to make a long story short: missing girl, big Freddy in her garage, I've got to break it open and see what's inside."
"…What?"
"Yeah, that was my reaction, but this is what we're doing apparently. I'm on my way now," Fritz explained. Mike could tell, hearing the background noise of a car humming and windshield wipers going.
"Can I get the long version now?" he asked, significantly more on edge now. "What, there's a girl that went missing and they think she's stuck in giant Freddy? …Are you sure she's not at the Pizzaplex?"
"Thankfully no, so she might actually have a chance," Fritz said. He then awkwardly cleared his throat, regretting the joke. "No, see, her grandfather somehow has a big Freddy in his garage and he thinks, for some reason, that she might've gotten stuck inside. Burke thinks so too, and he doesn't think she's… He thinks she's alive. At least, that's the impression I got. But he also said she's a teenager, not a kid, and that originally they thought she ran away. So, unless she's a really small teenager and he's a pretty big bear, there might be a slim chance that Burke's just paranoid and she's not in there… By which I mean, I really hope that's what's going on and not this."
Mike silently agreed. "Is Jeremy with you?" he asked.
"No. Burke told me to come alone. I think he's trying to do damage control."
"Should I come. Burke can't really stop me from showing up."
"…I don't know, we'll see," Fritz said vaguely. "I haven't even looked at what I'm working on… To tell you the truth, I have a hunch it's going to be out of my depth."
"Fritz, you're the best technician I know. You can do it," Mike assured. "But if you can't, get Ennard. He's the one who got Mari out of Lefty."
"Huh. Good point. We'll see, maybe it's not that bad. I think I'm pulling up to the place, so I'm going to let you go and I'll call you back later."
"Sounds good. But if you change your mind, call me and I'll come over… I can't really help but it'll sure as hell tick off Burke," Mike offered. Fritz chuckled a little, likely a nervous laugh. "Call me back when you're done. You've got this."
It wasn't until the phone call ended and he was standing there quietly in the kitchen that the weight of what he had just been told on him. He swore under his breath, then continued to do so as he quickly dialed up the house number, running his hand through his hair as he listened to it ring.
"Come on, come on, pick up…"
"Hello?" Jeremy's voice answered. Though he knew it wasn't Jeremy.
"Mari, it's me. I'm over at Foxy's and I just got one hell of a call from Fritz," Mike rushed out. He tried to keep his voice low and moved towards the far side of the kitchen to not be heard.
"What happened? Did Foxy and Chance get into a fight?" Marionette asked worriedly.
"It's so much worse than that," Mike muttered. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Whatever it is we can handle it. You just need to tell me what it is," the Puppet gently coaxed. He could hear the stress in the other's voice and tried to assure him.
"Don't panic," Mike said, still in the same position. "But Fritz just called me. Burke's got him driving out to a house where a girl's gone missing to see if she might've gotten trapped inside of the giant Freddy Fazbear they have sitting in their garage." He rushed out the last part with growing exasperation.
He expected an immediate explosion. Much to his surprise, he got something worse.
"…What?"
A single, quiet word. Just on the verge of a whisper, just on the verge of cracking.
"Now before you get the wrong idea, she's alive. That's coming from Burke and he doesn't have a reason to lie," Mike interjected. It felt like a lie saying it even though for all he knew it was the truth. "Fritz is heading over there now and he's going to call me once he figures out what's going on. There's no need to panic yet."
"I think this is a very good time to panic," Marionette quietly said. Yet it was clear that he was attempting to hold it back. "And they're sure she's inside?"
"That's the only good part of this. He isn't sure. Nobody's sure yet. Frankly, I have trouble imagining a teen squeezing into a Freddy. She'd have to be a contortionist," Mike said. "...Okay, I'll level with you. I might be grasping at straws."
"Mike, I'm about to panic."
"Thanks for the warning. I'll pick up a fire extinguisher on the way home."
"Why on Earth would someone have a Freddy sitting in their garage?!" Marionette whispered. Likely trying to keep Charlie or Springtrap from hearing. His growing static was suddenly interrupted by a sharp chime, a ting of realization. "Mike, call Fritz back and tell him to get Ennard over there. He can get that Freddy open."
"Don't worry, I already told him. If he can't get it open, then that's where he's sending Burke, and if Burke refuses then I'll drive Ennard over there myself- and since I'll be in a blind fury, Mom and Patrick too."
"Let's not get carried away just yet," Marionette said with only an edge of humor past his concern. "…Maybe you should come home."
"I'm on my way," Mike assured. "I can stay on the phone."
"No, that might tip off that something's wrong. I'll be alright until you get home."
"If you're sure. I love you, Mari."
Marionette trilled a little, though clearly still nervously. "I love you too." He made a little kiss sound against the receiver.
The call ended and after a moment Mike headed out into the dining room, now worried that his mother and uncle would notice something was wrong. They didn't, and Mike brushed it off as something about the business before suggesting they headed home. Not noticing the suddenness of it, they agreed and started to head back home.
They were almost home when Mike's cellphone started ringing. Since he was not driving- he had been delegated to the backseat while Patrick drove- he was able to answer without Isabelle getting onto him about being on the phone while driving in the steadily increasing rain.
"Hello?" he greeted.
"Me again. So, I'm off the case," Fritz said. "It's a Funtime Freddy, and you're never going to believe the size of it."
That changed things. That made things a whole lot worse.
"So, what's the plan?"
"I told him to get Ennard or Michael to handle it. He said he was going to make a few calls."
"Did you tell him that he's not at the warehouse?" Mike asked, meaning Springtrap.
"…I guess he's calling Ennard then."
Mike scoffed a little. "Well, there's a silver lining. We just left dinner and we're heading home."
"You're in the car with them right now? You don't think they hear me, do you?"
"No."
"Good. Guess I'm going to let you go then. We'll talk later."
"Alright, take care," Mike finished and quickly hung up. He didn't like being brisk with Fritz, but he knew the other caught on to why he was. Once again he had a sick feeling the moment he ended the call. Probably his nerves.
"What was that about?" Isabelle asked. Though right before Mike could start sweating bullets, she quickly tacked on, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be nosey." She sounded genuinely apologetic. It gave him a moment to pull a response together.
"Don't worry about it, Mom. It's just Fritz again. We're trying to figure out how to get rid of this big hunk of machinery that's not good for anything. We've got a couple of guys who deal with stuff like this and he's trying to track them down."
Isabelle seemed to believe this and didn't question further. Just giving a simple, "Oh, okay."
"I've got to meet some of these coworkers of yours," Patrick joked. "Is the guy who lifts machinery the same one who broke in and tore up Freddy's?"
"No, but they're both Mari's brothers. He's the white sheep of the family," Mike replied.
"There's another good question. When am I going to meet this fabled Mari?"
He knew this question was coming and was prepared for it.
"As soon as you sign the non-disclosure agreement."
It was brushed off as a joke and that was the end of it, and it wasn't long before they got back to the house.
Mike learned long ago that it was better to just be upfront with Marionette that to try to shield him. He had been on the receiving end of having it done to him too, which meant he knew what it felt like. It was best to be totally open, but Mike wasn't sure whether it was the best course of action to run into the master bedroom and blurt out that Fritz failed and it's an Afton-made, programmed to be homicidal, FuntimeFreddy.
So, he put it off. He decided to hold off a little longer and see if he got anymore calls. Besides, he had an excuse. After taking two calls while his family was visiting it would've been weird to randomly disappear to his bedroom for a long period of time. Might've given them the wrong impression. So, he put on a brave face- one that wasn't suspicious- and went ahead with the evening. Isabelle broke out the rest of the gifts, they watched some television, and all was going well.
At one point Mike looked over and noticed his mother's head on his uncle's, or his stepfather's, shoulder. He could've thought that something like that would've made him uncomfortable, but it didn't. No, it just sprung up a new fear at the possibility of them staying the night and him having to juggle a house of animatronics with them here. If she fell asleep, then he was doomed. He was sleeping on that cot in Marionette's room tonight.
Though before he could get stuck with such a fate, the home phone rang and roused his mother, and sent him to his feet and speedily walking into the kitchen. He answered quickly, "Hello?"
"Hello? Uh, hello, can you hear me?" Surprisingly it wasn't Fritz but instead Scott. "Good! Sorry about that, I'm getting spotty service. It's really coming down." Judging on how loud Scott was talking, it could've been. "So, I wanted to bring you up to speed on where I've been for the last hour."
"If I can take a wild guess, you've been hanging out in a musty garage with Clay Burke."
"Wait, you know? Wait, of course you know. Fritz was up here. Sorry if I'm a little scattered, it's been a long night. But, uh, I thought everyone should know about what happened and your house covers a lot of 'everyone'," Scott explained. Instead of sounding scattered he just sounded tired. "I'm not sure how much Fritz told you, but a few days ago a teenage girl went missing and her grandfather thought that she might've gotten stuck inside of a retired Freddy that he had sitting in his garage. We get there and, yeah, she's in there, and it's a Funtime Freddy. Ennard had to open it up, but she's okay. She's at the hospital getting fluids."
The mood of the call shifted immediately. Mike exhaled out what felt like pounds of stress weighing him down from the inside. She might've been in there, but she was alive. That was good enough for him. Though it did raise some questions.
"How big was the size of this bear?"
"Big," Scott answered.
"BIG!" he heard Ennard call from the background.
"Big and totally insane… but what else is new?" Scott added.
"Glad to see he's upholding the Funtime name," Mike remarked. Though his tone quickly turned serious, and his voice grew quietly. "So, he was alive and aware of what it was doing. Where is he now?"
"He's, uh… He's down for the count right now. Clay's going to take care of it… And he's going to have to take care of it if you get what I mean. From what Funtime Freddy said… Yeah, there's no chance of helping him. I don't even know if there's a person inside of that suit."
It didn't take a genius to realize that something more happened then he was letting on.
"Alright, what happened?" Mike pried. Clearly indicating that he wasn't going to take this answer alone.
Scott gave a tired sigh and caved.
"From what I pieced together from what Funtime Freddy said, between the insults and the weird potato comments and the threats, was that somehow the girl climbed into him, he sealed up the hatch, and then proceeded to… ask her how she wanted him to kill her. He then followed through with trying to kill her and when it didn't work, he tried to either starve or dehydrate her to death… And from what he said, he's done this before. Or at least, he's killed people before."
There came that weight again. Along with the slowly spread of anger. That kind that became a little more prevalent the longer he let those words set in.
And Mike had wondered why Scott had implied that rehabilitation wasn't an option when he had witnessed it firsthand. Because this wasn't a haunted animatronics with issues, it was just an extension of William Afton. Worked just as intended.
"…But hey, we can't be too sure. He said a lot of stuff that I know was just to get in our heads, so I could believe that he made that part up. And I'm going to believe it so I can sleep tonight," Scott said in a lighter tone. "…But I do believe what he said when he said he'd do it again. He didn't have any remorse and enjoyed it way too much."
"He made decapitation sound so fun that I just HAD to try it," Ennard said sinisterly. Though he faked a delighted tone, it was clear that he was sour about the situation. Understandable considering what must've happened.
Mike tried to rein in his satisfaction at Funtime Freddy's fate.
"No, you made the right call. Now we see if Burke's going to hold up his end of the deal," Mike remarked.
"Freddy said he was going to kill her and that he'd kill again if he had the chance, in front of Clay. Don't worry, he's going to take care of this. I trust him."
"And if he doesn't, we know where he lives," Ennard added in. "Ooo, Scottie, tell him about how you threatened those cops."
"Uhm, ahem, I've got to go. We're sitting out in the driveway and it's really coming down, so I'll talk to you later? Maybe come by tomorrow we'll give you the rest of the details."
"Sounds good. My parents are here so I should get back to them."
And there was the second Freudian slip of the evening. He wanted to cringe and looked towards the living room, but Isabelle and Patrick were talking now and didn't notice it.
"Oh, we'll be there! We got a HUGE surprise!" Ennard gushed. As though he was barely holding back on whatever this 'surprise' was. "You take care of that mom of yours, okay?"
"I plan on it. I'll tell Mari and see you two tomorrow," Mike finished. After a few brief goodbyes, he hung up, then passed by the living room towards the hallway. "I'll be right back. I've got to check something."
"Is everything okay?" Patrick asked.
"It's all good. Fritz got ahold of the one guy and they're going to straighten it out," he smoothly deflected, turning around and walking backwards into the hall. He pointed his thumbs back behind him. "I just have to run back to my bedroom really quick. I've got my file cabinet with all our receipts in my closet."
"Good place for it," Patrick complimented.
With them none the wiser and him barely being honest, Mike made it back to the master bedroom. He knocked on the door briefly before leaning himself in, only to find the master bedroom empty. Only to have Marionette appear beside him a few moments later.
"Hey, hey. You'll be happy to hear that Ennard popped Freddy's top," Mike announced.
"Good," Marionette said. He then promptly retracted it, "I mean- No, not good but… Was she in there?"
"She was, but she's okay. Scott said that they got her out and she should be at the hospital getting fluids."
"That's… That's wonderful! That's fantastic- of course Ennard could do it!" Marionette chimed with delight. Mike could hear that same relief of weight through his voice and smiled. He stepped through the door, pushing it closed behind him, and coaxed him into a hug which the puppet eagerly returned. For a moment they just soaked up the feeling; the feeling that they had somehow averted a catastrophe.
Funny how they got so invested in a girl who neither was ever going to meet. In this case, they would rather that than the circumstances that might've thrust them together.
Marionette had a sobering thought and pulled back. "And what will become of Freddy?" he asked.
"Considering that he said he planned on a killing spree in front of Burke, don't expect him to show up for Christmas."
A small smile returned to Marionette's mask. "Cute, but we need to be sure. If he meant what he said then we need to make sure Clay takes it serious. Or he will get the chance again."
"We'll call him tomorrow and straighten it out," Mike affirmed. He leaned in and stole a quick kiss. "Sorry to split, but I've got to get back out there. Mom's starting to nod off on the couch so this might be my last chance to nudge them out the door before they commit to staying the night."
"I don't mind them staying the night! And I doubt Michael or Charlie would either. We could let them stay in here and we could stay in my room," Marionette offered.
"…You know, as tempting as that sounds, I think I'd like to sleep tonight," Mike answered with a cheeky smile. Marionette gave a scoffing chime and a playful push.
"Go ahead. If you get a chance, please tell your mum I was so glad to see her and that I hope she comes back soon, and that I love her," Marionette requested. His smile stretched wider with excitement. "And later we can celebrate. I'll show you what else your mother got me. I think you'll find it… intriguing," he said vaguely. He could already imagine the look on Mike's face when he whipped out the ukulele.
Though the current look he had was equally entertaining. No doubt he was expecting for him to reach into his bad and pull out a garish tropical-themed souvenir that would become a staple of their bedroom. Alas, Charlie got the snow globe.
"That's not terrifying, but sure. Will do," Mike agreed. He then headed back out, looking back at Marionette again to make sure he was alright before leaving.
Once he was gone, the Puppet was left alone with his thoughts, and he decided it was worth processing them before going to tell Charlie and Michael.
As jarring as this all was, this wasn't an unusual occurrence. They simply hadn't had many unhinged animatronics pop up recently. Especially not ones who he knew his father had a hand in- but he knew they existed. They existed and he wanted to help them, and he did feel a sickening guilt at so willingly accepting Funtime Freddy's decommission. He liked to believe that every animatronic could be saved and could be helped to have a comfortable life before an eventual afterlife.
But the truth was that he couldn't stand by and let something so willing to kill continue doing so. It didn't matter if it was human or animatronic, he wasn't going to let more innocents lose their lives. If Ennard hadn't had gotten that bear open, then he would've- even if he had to pull it apart piece by piece. He had put enough people back together to know how to take them apart.
Feeling himself getting worked up, he calmed himself down and released the tension on his spools. It was all fine. If there was a soul inside of Funtime Freddy it would surely find peace and forgiveness once freed from the shell and the directives his father laid out for it. He supposed it was hypocritical in a way, to go along with taking away another's body when he nearly had the same thing done to him, but he knew this was different.
Perhaps it didn't have a soul. Maybe there was something else steering it.
He would ask Ennard tomorrow if it was hot to the touch.
Springtrap was awoken by a rhythmic little knock on the door. He shifted around and rolled over, knocking most of his stuff off of the bed and to the floor. He could care less, cracking open an eye to stare at the door, recognizing the knock.
"Come in…"
He braced himself for the door flying open and the expected party to come striding in, but that was not what happened.
Instead, the door slowly creaked open a small amount before pink ears slid through, then a pink head, and then the body revealing a small rabbit. He recognized its model instantly, being one of those hand puppet Bonnie's typically stuck to the end of a Funtime Freddy's arm. If not for its coloring, it would've looked nearly identical to the "Bon-Bon" puppet he had seen during his time working in Afton Robotics.
It had its hands shyly over its mouth when it first poked out, but then pulled them back to wave one at him. She slid out further as a familiar white mask poked into the crack of the doorway beneath her.
"Guess what I stole out of an old man's garage?" Ennard asked gleefully.
A whole lot of trouble, Springtrap predicted.